California Dreamin' ~ A Repost

This piece describes my move from Los Angeles to Oakland back in 1992. A lifetime of experiences and nearly 20 years later, I'm embarking on new adventures. In fact, I'll make this next trek further north on the same date (2/28) as my original posting of California Dreamin' in 2010.

Dedicated to the Mamas and the Papas, and to California dreamers everywhere

All the leaves are brown,

“So you’re going to Bizerkeley?” Jim goaded, when I made my big announcement. My spinning brain did not attend to his play on words. “Yes, you’ll have to come visit me,” I responded. I knew it would never happen but wanted to give him one more chance. Jim and I had worked together over the past year. He had asked me on a date a week earlier, but then changed his mind in favor of a concert with some friends. Thus, another disappointing episode capped my life experiences in L.A. It was alright. I wanted no ties whatsoever as I made my big escape. Besides, there were bound to be some straight men in the Bay Area, if only of the “woo woo” variety. That would work just fine. I wouldn’t be so likely to get dumped for an AC/DC concert. See ya, Jim. Wouldn’t want to be ya. You know, stuck in LA, and all. Sucka!

And the sky is grey.

I went for a walk on a winter’s day.

It’d been one hell of a quarter of a century thus far. With two family members buried side by side in Hillside’s grassy Mount of Olives, and a recent bout of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome that limited my activity level for months, I was more than ready. Clenching my acceptance letter from the UC Regents, I looked towards a new life in the San Francisco Bay Area.

I’d be safe and warm -

“You’ll freeze your ass off up there!” they warned. So I shopped for a hundred, give or take 98, winter garments. As I threw some of my raggedy old sweaters into the suitcase, I paused. “Bizerkeley?” What am I getting myself into?

You know, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees)

And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray)

But what could go wrong? I was escaping the frenzy of a life I was never suited for: the culture of models with their fake tans and blindingly bleached hair; everyone trying to get ahead of everyone else – whether that be in line at Starbuck’s on Rodeo Drive or the women's bathroom at Wendy’s on Venice Beach.

Oh, the preacher likes the cold (preacher likes the cold)

He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)

It’s a known fact that people flip each other off fighting for the closest parking space at Bally’s Health Spa in Santa Monica. Hello, all you gorgeous and fit people! Do you not see the irony in this? Do you need your valet to transport you past a few choice parking spots in order to get your workout in?

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')

LA driving is worthy of it's own special mention. The freeways, let me tell you. First, it is necessary to say “the” before any name of a freeway in LA. Thus, there’s the 101, the 405, and too many more. I cannot let go of the damn the before giving directions nowadays. See, you can take the girl out of LA. But you can’t take the LA driving experience out of her. I only wish.

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')


On such a winter's day (California dreamin')

The last time I drove down for Thanksgiving, I made it to the San Fernando Valley in 4 hours. Then, I was virtually stopped for the last 15 miles. Two hours later, I figured I’d be making it on time for pumpkin pie. (Well, you know that’s all I drove down for any way. But that’s not the point here.) My gracious sister-in-law had prepared a scrumptious meal and taught the Engels the courtesy of waiting for dinner guests to arrive (a new concept, especially when the dinner guest was me).

If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her) I could leave today (I could leave today)

Back to my escape. I finally landed at my destination, eyeing Oakland’s Lake Merritt. It was a proud moment, so I pulled over to take it all in. What a glorious sight! Shimmering diamond specks dotted an expansive, green lake that oozed serenity. The skyline was less intrusive than any I had ever seen. A few drug stores, banks, and semi-high rise buildings guarded the lake. All was quiet and peaceful. Despite what I’d heard about Oakland, I just knew the church at the intersect across the way would assure my safety.

I’d be safe and warm -

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')

Home alas! I made it! Life began again in that moment. Something told me not to look down, though. Perhaps it was my inner cynic lambasting my ecstasy with a bit of reality. I somehow knew that if I peered intently into the water, I might see a dead body. Or two. Or three. So I just kept looking directly ahead, and up.

All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey.


On such a winter's day (California dreamin')


On such a winter's day (California dreamin')

Break Away, Fully aka Thanks, Kelly!

My fingers gripped the wheel at their usual 10 and 2 o’clock positions.
Where was I headed? Oh yeah, the post office.
Kelly’s voice soothed, lifted my spirits even.Thanks, Kelly!
Slammed by another bout of unemployment
I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly
Mobility through paralysis
But I won't forget all the ones that I love.
Trauma and drama
Drama and trauma
Will it end before I do?
I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky..
Please! I really mean it: Pretty, lovely please!
No whipped cream. No cherry. No sugar on top. Just a straight dose of hot fudge.
Piping hot. I promise.
Out of the darkness and into the sun.
Rejection, rejection
From every direction, direction..
I'll take a risk, take a chance,
Where was I headed?
Oh yeah, the post office. Turn right. Don’t hit the pedestrian. He looks like a nice one.
Make a change, and break away
Missing him, them,
So much to miss so much
Make a wish, take a chance,
Why did this happen?
Why did that happen?
Why did the other happen?
Make a change, and break away
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Part II.
Grew up in a small town
And when the rain would fall down
I wonder who else will disappoint
I'd just stare out my window
Dreaming of what could be
Disappear?
And if I'd end up happy
Die?
I would pray
Can't I just wake up to a new and better life?
Trying hard to reach out
Please! Pretty, lovely please!
I'll be really, really good. I am
But when I tried to speak out
Alone
Felt like no one could hear me
and afraid
Wanted to belong here
Holding tight to what I know.
But something felt so wrong here
So much to miss so much
So I'd pray
I find myself standing in line.
A sweet old man walks into the post office, teasing that his cane gives him clout.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Part III.
I could break away
Since I’m first, I josh: “Go right on ahead of me, sir.”
Wanna feel the warm breeze
“Why, when I can harass people from here?” He grins.
Sleep under a palm tree
“Good call. You just stay back in your prime spot there.”
Feel the rush of the ocean
Three elderly men and I share in a hearty chuckle.
Get onboard a fast train
My turn: $18 to rush a piece that’s due tomorrow.
A small price to pay for hope.
Travel on a jet plane
Still trying for publications,
Far away
despite the rejection.
And break away
Still trying for the right job,
Buildings with a hundred floors
Swinging with revolving doors
despite the rejection.
Maybe I don’t know where they’ll take me
Still trying for love,
Gotta keep movin on, movin on
despite the rejection.
Fly away
Taken by freedom
Break away
I send out another resume.
I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly.
I start a new poem.
Though it’s not easy to tell you goodbye
I breathe into the solitude.
Take a risk, take a chance,
Rejection, rejection
From every direction, direction..

Make a change, and break away.

A surge of exhilaration ignites my being.

Out of the darkness and into the sun.
But I won't forget the place I come from

Thanks, Kelly!

I gotta take a risk, take a chance,
Make a change, and break away
Breakaway
Break away

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujHBrVsx8Ss

Break Away aka Thanks, Kelly! ~ II.

Part I.
My fingers gripped the wheel at their usual 10 and 2 o’clock positions.
Where was I headed? Oh yeah, the post office.
Kelly’s voice soothed, lifted my spirits even.
Thanks, Kelly!

Slammed by another bout of unemployment
I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly
Mobility through paralysis

But I won't forget all the ones that I love.
Trauma and drama
Drama and trauma
Will it end before I do?

I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky..
Please! I really mean it: Pretty, lovely please!
No whipped cream. No cherry. No sugar on top.Just a straight dose of hot fudge.
Piping hot. I promise.

Out of the darkness and into the sun.

Rejection, rejection
From every direction, direction..

I'll take a risk, take a chance,
Where was I headed?
Oh yeah, the post office.
Turn right. Don’t hit the pedestrian. He looks like a nice one.

Make a change, and break away

Missing him, them,
So much to miss so much

Make a wish, take a chance,
Why did this happen?
Why did that happen?
Why did the other happen?

Make a change, and break away
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Part II.

Grew up in a small town
And when the rain would fall down

I wonder who else will disappoint

I'd just stare out my window
Dreaming of what could be

Disappear?

And if I'd end up happy

Die?

I would pray

Can't I just wake up to a new and better life?

Trying hard to reach out

Please! Pretty, lovely please!

I'll be really, really good. I am
But when I tried to speak out
Alone

Felt like no one could hear me

and afraid

Wanted to belong here

Holding tight to what I know.

But something felt so wrong here

So much to miss so much

So I'd pray

I find myself standing in line.

A sweet old man walks into the post office, teasing that his cane gives him clout.

~Please come back for the last bit!

Break Away aka Thanks, Kelly! ~ Part I.

My fingers gripped the wheel at their usual 10 and 2 o’clock positions.
Where was I headed? Oh yeah, the post office.

Kelly’s voice soothed, lifted my spirits even.
Thanks, Kelly!

Slammed by another bout of unemployment

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly.

Mobility through paralysis

But I won't forget all the ones that I love.

Trauma and drama
Drama and trauma
Will it end before I do?

I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky..



Please! I really mean it: Pretty, lovely please!
No whipped cream. No cherry. No sugar on top.
Just a straight dose of hot fudge.
Piping hot. I promise.

Out of the darkness and into the sun.


Rejection, rejection
From every direction, direction..

I'll take a risk, take a chance,

Where was I headed?
Oh yeah, the post office.
Turn right. Don’t hit the pedestrian.
He looks like a nice one.

Make a change, and break away

Missing him, them,
So much to miss so much

Make a wish, take a chance,

Why did this happen?
Why did that happen?
Why did the other happen?

Make a change, and break away

to be continued...

Undo It! ~ with credit to Carrie Underwood

Dear Friends,

I'm back (with a photo of my back on my wedding day) to apologize. Sorry to switch gears so drastically from silliness to sadness, but -well- I'm doing it. That's because I'd like to undo it. This piece is a mix of Carrie Underwood's song, Undo it, and my wedding vows.

I should have known by the way you passed me by
There was something in your eyes and it wasn't right
I should have walked but I never had the chance
Everything got out of hand and I let it slide

So with heart in hand, these were my vows to you:

At the end of our first amazing date, I told you I needed time to take it all in.
I think I need to do that for the rest of our lives.
Our relationship has been so different, in so many wonderful ways, than anything I could have imagined experiencing in this lifetime.

Now I only have myself to blame for falling for your stupid games
You’ve asked me many times if I know how much you love me.
Even, and especially, in this moment, I still don’t.
You love me with a full commitment to conquer any and all challenges we face, whatever the cost.

I wish my life could be the way it was before I saw your face

There’s a perennial and dream like quality to your love.
You stole my happy,

You love me with such a relentlessly generous and tender heart,
you made me cry

without pride or pretense,
Took the lonely and took me for a ride
and without being stifled by fear.

And I wanna undo it
Before you came into my life, I was a hopeless cynic- on a good day.

You had my heart, now I want it back
Your love has somehow transformed me into a woman of faith.
I promise to do my best to carry us through life with this faith that you have unknowingly given me.

I'm starting to see everything you lack
I promise to do my best to keep faith in us,

Boy, you blew it!
that together we can successfully navigate whatever lies ahead.

you put me through it
I promise to do my best to keep faith in your pure intentions, rather than clinging to any shortsighted options of how I think things “should” be.

Now your photos don't have a picture frame
I promise to do my best to remind you of the faith I have in you

And I never say your name
as the sincere, competent, sweet, generous, witty, handsome

and I never will
and all around wonderful man that you are.

Now you only have yourself to blame for playing all those stupid games
I promise to do my best

You're always gonna be the same
to keep sight of our loving union,

and, oh no, you'll never change
knowing that we are,

You stole my happy,
and always will be,

you made me cry
each other’s destiny.

Took the lonely and took me for a ride
I promise to do my best to express and embody

And I wanna undo it
true, loving faith

You had my heart,
for the rest of our lives.
now I want it back!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywtJYvDBKek

Crappy Anniversaries and What Hurts the Most

Dear Friends,

I cannot tell a lie. I'm sad.

It's a crappy anniversary

time of year. Thus, my posts will not

likely be full of my usual pep, for a week or so.

Please bear with me. I'll be back to my spunky self, making you laugh soon enough! I promise! xo

To follow is a splicing of Rascal Flatt's song, What Hurts the Most, and bits of my wedding ceremony. [This time of year, I would've been married for 3 years. Instead, I've been divorced for nearly 2.]

Blessed be this groom and this bride.
As this ceremony celebrates the covenant that is sealed with abiding love, so does this day promise the sweetness of that family union that is founded on dedication and commitment, on duty and self consecration.
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house

That don't bother me

I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out

I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while

Even though going on with you gone still upsets me

There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok

But that's not what gets me

With this ring, be consecrated to me as my husband with abiding love.
With this ring, be consecrated to me as my wife with abiding love.
What hurts the most

Was being so close

And having so much to say

And watching you walk away

And never knowing

What could have been

And not seeing that loving you

Is what I was tryin' to do

You have now spoken the words and performed the rites which unite your lives. I do, therefore in conformity with ancient custom and with the laws of this state, declare you husband and wife.

It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go

But I'm doin' it

It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone

Still Harder

Getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret

But I know if I could do it over

I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart

That I left unspoken

May your days be good and long upon the earth, and may love and truth be your companions forever.

What hurts the most

Is being so close

And having so much to say

And watching you walk away

And never knowing

What could have been

And not seeing that loving you

Is what I was trying to do

May your journey bring you peace.

Not seeing that loving you

That's what I was trying to do

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6MjMpbneM

I Dance to Forget, Part III. ~ with credit to the Eagles

continued from IDancetoForget,II.

Note: As a few of you predicted, this story does not end happily. It was a tough write, because of it. But as you see, I've recovered quite well and am still dancing with pretty boys. I just wish I hadn't covered my face in the tanning booth! Excuse the uneven tan.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a uniqueness to our dance. It differed vastly from the dancing I did in LA years earlier.

The LA club scene offered an attractive mix: the pricey, snooty hot spots in downtown; the more sketchy but accepting venues in West Hollywood; the trendy, cozier hangouts on the Santa Monica Promenade; and the random restaurants-turned-dance-clubs-at-dusk in all the beach towns.

Wherever I was, I was seduced by the shallow and freeing scene. I loved the boys’ attention, especially when I got it from the cute ones. I wasn’t picky, though. I was just happy to have a partner. Any partner would do.

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends I loved the flirtations, the touches, the movements, the excitement of feeling wanted.

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat. This world was my refuge from reality. I needed to forget. So I did, until 2am or closing time, or whichever came first.

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

I met him 13 years after leaving LA. He didn’t usually dance with me, but he always came along. He tried the steps a bit every time. Though he sometimes became uptight when either of us (i.e., he) made the wrong move, I was patient and forgiving. I was just happy to be in partnership with someone and with him.

He hated when I took the lead.
So I called up the Captain,'Please bring me my wine'

I hated that he hated it when I took the lead. It’s just a habit, and I’m the better dancer. That’s usually the case. The really good ones don’t dance with me, so I get the annoying beginners who count aloud and blame me when they make the wrong move by, for example, stepping on my feet.


I’d get antsy with him, I guess, and would try to be in control. I’m not a follower. It’s not my way. Perhaps I just wanted that combination of freedom and control that I experienced on the dance floors in LA. Perhaps I didn’t fully trust him to take the lead.


I suppose I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'

Nonetheless, our loving relationship went along at the idyllic pace – dating for one year before moving in together, engaged for one year before marriage, leading up to the happiest day of my life. Our wedding dance was elegant, graceful, and impressive – especially the final dip.


And still those voices are calling from far away,
One night shortly thereafter, I woke up screaming. I felt and saw the presence of a man who would do harm to me; an intruder was hovering over me at the bedside.


It’s the only time in my life I remember having a nightmare like that.


Wake you up in the middle of the night My screaming woke him. He held me briefly, and then we went back to sleep.


Just to hear them say... Everything would be okay.

Welcome to the Hotel California He would take care of me.

Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place) I had nothing to fear.

Such a lovely face I would always be safe.

They livin' it up at the Hotel California
I just needed to get used to it. That’s all.

What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)

Everyone had bad dreams once in a while.
Bring your alibis

Our love and commitment would see us through anything.

Mirrors on the ceiling, We created a beautiful home and life together.

The pink champagne on ice We had it all, and there’s always a price. There’s always work. There’s always sacrifice. He was worth the investment. We were worth the investment.

And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device' The price kept rising.

And in the master's chambers, Below the surface was great pain and turmoil.

Still, we had parties and socialized. We were loving and giggly, at least in public.

They gathered for the feast I tried everything, every day, every hour. Nothing worked. Nothing made me happy.

They stab it with their steely knives,
Nothing made me less miserable.
But they just can't kill the beast
I was committed to him and the marriage for a lifetime. But he declared us through, so I left immediately.

Last thing I remember, I was
In shock, I didn’t turn back.

Running for the door
Four years, the chance to be a mom, and my lifetime of dreams dashed. I was lost.
I had to find the passage back
“You’ll meet someone new,” they all say.

To the place I was before I certainly didn’t plan on being single -and childless- again.

'Relax,' said the night man, But I’m not living in tension. I have my freedom back.
'We are programmed to receive.

Trauma fades in and out,
You can check-out any time you like,

but it doesn’t ever go away.
But you can never leave!'

Epilogue:

Now, I’m back to dancing. Now, I dance to remember how much I’ve always loved to dance.
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x21dc5_eagles-hotel-californi-music

I Dance to Forget, Part 2 ~ with credit to the Eagles for one of the world's greatest songs

Continued from Part I. of I Dance to Forget.

Then she lit up a candle, and she showed me the way. "Everyone deserves a second chance," he convinced me.

There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say "Keep your heart open," they always said. The brain, in subtle quandary, concurred nonetheless. Being with him was right. He was my everything. My heart led the way.

Welcome to the Hotel California. He offered pure comfort, romance, and passion. He adored me. I felt so happy.

Such a lovely place. Everything was bright and beautiful.

Such a lovely face. "You're impossibly cute," he'd tell me. "You make me believe again."

Plenty of room at the hotel California "Do you know how much I love you?" he'd ask. "No," I'd respond. His love and ours felt infinite.

Anytime of year It was the summer of 2005. We camped, hiked, meandered through local beach towns, and dined in mediocre fashion. We had fabulously warm and fun dinner parties. Friends, family, and strangers regularly commented on our happy sappiness. I was suddenly living the dream that had carried me through until then. I had it all.

You can find it here. Deep down, I knew I deserved it.

Her mind is tiffany-twisted, What I didn't know is that I was headed in the opposite direction.

She's got the Mercedes bends. The signs were deceptive. I followed them.

At that time, I was heading a dance group that I founded. Though he never danced before, he danced with me, for me.

Thinking back, I can't remember a time when I didn't dance. I liked to twirl. My friends called me a spinning top. I called myself Rockin' Robyn. It caught on.

Finding a man to dance with meant I had truly arrived. I had my life partner.

I'll be back with Part III. Jake, probably not. Sorry, but please do come back for the next stretch. xo

I Dance to Forget, Part I. ~ with thanks to the Eagles

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

It wasn’t an easy journey, but I made my way solo with the grace of a kindhearted klutz.

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Fueled by deep raw loneliness, I pressed on toward the finish line.

Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light

Prince Charming might be there.

This dream became more real with a string of boyfriends who finally entered the picture.

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

One by one, each exhausted me with ever increasing levels of neediness and histrionics. So I decided to go solo again. I needed a break, perhaps permanently.

I had to stop for the night

That’s when we met.

There she stood in the doorway; I heard the mission bell

Our shared laughter was fantastic. He was my destination. This I knew.

And I was thinking to myself, 'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'

When I came home from our first date in tears, though, I figured either I was already in love or he was just a big jerk.

..to be continued.I promise. Please come back.

I Will Survive! ~ with thanks to Gloria Gaynor

At first I was afraid
“We’re through!”
I was petrified
“I want you out!”
Kept thinking

I could never live

“We’ll be divorced in 6 months.”
Without you by my side
“Who gets the fuckin’ china?”

But then I spent

oh so many nights

"Oh my God!"
Thinking how you did me wrong

Shock.
And I grew strong

Devastation.
And I learned how to get along

Sleep.

And so you're back

Tears.
From outer space

Homeless.
I just walked in to find you here

Alone.
With that sad look upon your face

Destroyed.
I should have changed that stupid lock

Bankrupt.
I should have made you leave your key

Drained.
If I had known for just one second

Scared.
You'd be back to bother me

Enraged.

Go on now go

Helpless.
Walk out the door

Hopeless.
Just turn around now

Hopeful.
'Cause you're not welcome anymore

Resilient.
Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye

Secure.
Did you think I'd crumble?

Strong.
Did you think I'd lay down and die?

Powerful.

It took all the strength I had

Determined.

Not to fall apart

Tenacious.
Kept trying hard to mend

Resolved.
The pieces of my broken heart

Focused.
And I spent oh so many nights

Calm.
Just feeling sorry for myself

Relieved.
I used to cry

Free.
But now I hold my head up high

Proud.

And you see me

Playing.
Somebody new

Singing.
I'm not that chained up little person

Giggling.
Still in love with you

Healing.
And so you felt like dropping in

Growing.
And just expect me to be free

Loving.
But now I'm saving all my loving

Hoping.
For someone who's loving me

Dating.
Oh no, not I

Smiling.

I will survive

Laughing.
Oh, as long as I know how to love

Writing.
I know I'll stay alive

Dancing.
I've got all my life to live

Crying.
I've got all my love to give

I got the fuckin’ china.
And I'll survive! I will survive! I will survive

Hey hey! ...

YouTube - I Will Survive

Humanity and Humility, Think Twice ~ Part II.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f7WyUnf_A8


Continued from Think Twice.

She calls out to the man on the street. He can see she's been crying. She's got blisters on the soles of her feet. Can't walk but she's trying.


She’s frozen from shock and despair. Marcus is living somewhere else. That’s all she knows. That’s all I know. “My heart is broken,” she tells me.

She’s lived through it all herself: the abuse, the abrupt moves from one foster home to another, the changes in schools, friends, everything. Once it started to feel like home, she was yanked away again.

“Given the home was sprayed by bullets, I completely respect your decision to move Marcus,” I tell the other Supervisor. “I just feel terribly about it.”

I am numbed by my own humility. I have nothing to offer.

Oh think twice...

I sit comfortably at my computer, in my rental apartment by the beach. I’m home. I telephone my brother. I have family, though one rocked by tragedy and dysfunctions; I have love.

Oh lord, is there nothing more anybody can do Oh lord, there must be something you can say

I sit in the humility of defeat. There is nothing I can do to fix it.


You can tell from the lines on her face You can see that she's been there Probably been moved on from every place 'Cuz she didn't fit in there


She plans to move again, to a safer place. She just has to find one first. That’s what she does. She keeps seeking home.

Oh think twice...

Think Twice, Part I. ~ Dedicated to child survivors of abuse, with thanks to Phil Collins

Photo taken in the city of Paradise, CA, 1972. Hint: I'm the bigger chick.

She calls out to the man on the street "Sir, can you help me?"
Irritated by her neediness, I don’t return the call right away. Instead, I enjoy my lunch and get a few things off of my desk. “Did you hear about the shooting?” my co-worker asks. “I heard something about it, but no one was hurt. So that's good. I’ll call her in a bit,” I respond casually.

It's cold and I've nowhere to sleep, Is there somewhere you can tell me?"
“I’m sorry, I forgot your name,” the woman tells me over the phone when I decide to return the call. “But I know you’re the Supervisor, so I’m calling to tell you what happened last night. I’m trying to get out of here. I’m gonna get a new place. I really am. I saw something in downtown today. I’ve been meaning to get out since they smashed my car. But I can’t pay more than $1200. I’ll see another place across town tomorrow.”

I can’t give her a safe home. I can’t give her a home at all. I have nothing for her. Worse yet, I have nothing for Marcus. Two bullets remain lodged in the walls of his bedroom. They were meant for the neighbors in the crack house next door. She waited for years for low-cost housing, only to earn the opportunity to live in the cross fire. Literally.

I have nothing to tell her. I have nothing to tell Marcus. We were just getting to know each other. He was just starting to open up a bit.

He's so used to it. He's completely detached.

He walks on, doesn't look back. He pretends he can't hear her.

I sit on my cushioned, adjustable chair in my office at my job, fielding e-mails all the while. Her voice cracks. “There were five shots. I was so – and, I was so scared - a crash through the walls. I, I, I was so scared, Robyn.” I feel her tears streaming down her face. “Marcus was at his friend’s house down on East 14th. He’s used to shootings. There was a gang that hung out around his last foster home. But thank God he wasn’t home, and I wasn’t hurt either.”

Starts to whistle as he crosses the street Seems embarrassed to be there
Marcus lived there for just three weeks. At 16, this was his tenth “home” – a remarkably low number compared to his foster peers.

“You people don’t get it. I’m sick and tired of moving,” he told us before this last move. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Don't even ask me.”

He’s given up on the world, on himself. He hates foster care. He hates me. I can’t blame him. I’m ashamed to be a part of a system that failed him so miserably. How much easier it would be to leave this field. How much easier for Marcus and I to just pretend that none of these evils exist, that there's no child abuse, no gangs, no crack houses or shootings anywhere, especially not in his home.

Marcus has no family. He’s never had a real home. He probably never will.

They arrive with a large garbage bag, into which he throws a few items of clothing. Within five minutes, he is in transport out of West Oakland to a place in which we hope he won’t be sprayed by bullets.

Oh think twice, it's another day for You and me in paradise. Oh think twice, it's just another day for you, You and me in paradise.

To be continued in Think Twice, Part II.

Sounds of Silence ~ Part II, Dedicated to Mom with thanks to Simon and Garfunkel

Continued from last post.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hUy9ePyo6Q

And in the naked light I saw ten thousand people, maybe more.
The loud chatter and laughter continued, as I withdrew further from the table that had once been ours. Mom used to put all sorts of dishes on that table. Truth is, she was not a very good cook. We usually had to fend for ourselves, with Swanson’s TV dinners, Hamburger Helper, and all sorts of ready-made products that we zapped in the microwave. Back then, the microwave was the latest and greatest invention.

Occasionally, Mom graced the table with delicious homemade dishes, like her hearty meatballs in juicy tomato sauce, accompanied by spicy rice. Those meatballs were my favorite. I wish I had Mom's recipe. Other times, we lit the Shabbat and Hanukah candles at the table, took in the glorious lights, and sang a few songs - though none of us could sing. Those were special times. The table held a fragile, tenacious love that was ours.

This gathering changed everything.

People talking without speaking, People hearing without listening, People writing songs that voices never share And no one dare Disturb the sound of silence.
And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made. "We’re back with the cups," Uncle Leo heroically announced. I said nothing. The guests were relieved and expressed their gratitude. They didn’t miss a beat, continuing to munch while holding their cups out for re-fills. Their eyes didn't leave the food.

Meanwhile, I remembered Thanksgiving and Passover meals. Our family and Aunt Esther’s gathered season after season, for predictably adequate meals that tasted divine: the appetizer was one half of a grapefruit with a maraschino cherry in the center; cheesy green beans and mushrooms; green salad with mom’s homemade dressing -I loved watching and smelling Mom press the garlic for the dressing; a 12 pound turkey that was always a bit dry; stove top stuffing (everybody's favorite); and a lemon Jell-O mixed with lots of cool-whip in the shape of a star of David. I wish I still had that Jell-O mold.

The intruders would surely have scoffed at those meals, but they meant family. I always ate as much of it as I could.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know Silence like a cancer grows. Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach to you."
Mrs. Goldberg interrupted my memories: “Robyn, just remember, tragedy brings a family together.”

You're full of shit, I thought, and walked away.

I desperately needed a hug. Nobody got it. Nobody gave it.

But my words like silent raindrops fell, And echoed In the wells of silence
I somehow found myself in the family room. Dad and I were the only ones there. He sat on the black sofa, resigned, exhausted, in utter shock and despair. With all of the sarcasm and of his depleted being, he muttered, “It’s just like a party here, isn’t it, Robyn? Bring out the dancing girls!”

Alas, I was not the only one who wanted them out. I was not the only one who wanted to see a sparsely covered kitchen table, with a few of Mom’s special dishes, or with the festive Shabbat or Hanukah candle lights, or with nothing at all. I was not the only one who would have preferred coming home from mom’s funeral to the lonely emptiness and quiet that was now ours and ours alone.

And the sign flashed out its warning, in the words that it was forming. And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls."


Dad and I sat in shared silence.

And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.

In blessed memory of my Mom, Edith Engel, 6/27/36-3/20/85.


Informational Note: In the Jewish faith, it is customary to bring food to the bereaved, especially immediately after the funeral.

The Sounds of Silence around the Kitchen Table - Part I.~ Dedicated to Mom with Thanks to Simon and Garfunkel

Left to right: a tad of mom, Edith Engel (34); Glenn-David Engel (18 mos.); Dawn Engel (4); and Robyn Engel (me, 3) at the kitchen table on the last night of Chanukah, 1969.
Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
I was in a fog. They poured into our home with awkward beaming smiles and words of cheer: uncles, aunts, cousins, friends and family from nearby or faraway places. I hadn’t spoken to most of them in years. I had no idea who some of them were. Others, I despised. Yet they invaded the quiet that now defined our home.

And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains
They focused excitedly on the fabulous growing display that forever altered our kitchen table. Contributions included multi-flavored bagels (sour dough, rye, whole wheat, and poppy seed – everything but my favorite, sesame seed), two trays filled with lox, bowls brightly decorated with tropical fruit, kosher pickles galore, and – for dessert – apple pie, pecan pie, and vanilla ice cream. No one brought chocolate.

Within the sound of silence.
All were uninvited but assumed the opposite. They made themselves at home near the kitchen table. One by one or two by two, they sauntered loudly through our living room and headed directly for the kitchen. Next, they placed their contributions meticulously onto the white oval shaped table, with a generously forced love. A few of them nodded at me en route. Most walked by without acknowledging me at all. They were dressed impeccably – the men in suits and ties, the women in dresses, nylons, and heels. Make up had clearly been applied with great care.

In restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone,
They didn’t try to hide it. They were thrilled to see each other and blatantly ignored me. A ball of pain welling up inside, I quietly distanced myself further from the table. They engaged in loud chatter about their recent vacation travels, their children’s academic successes, and –above all- this glorious spread of food. I remember the looks and sounds of it all. They raved about each and every contribution to our kitchen table, eating as if they had never eaten before.

I ate nothing.

No one mentioned mom. No one asked me how I was coping.

'Neath the halo of a street lamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp
They smiled at dad half-heartedly but resisted getting close. My sister and brothers were lost in the crowd. They played the game better. I refused to play.

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence.
The intruders stood around the table, grabbing pieces of food during pauses in discourse. Uncle Leo suddenly looked distressed and walked towards the front door. He saw me lingering nearby. “We have a problem. We’re out of cups,” he faced me and declared. “Come with me to get some.” “No. I won’t go,” I responded in one breath that encapsulated my anger and indifference. Instead, Dawn accompanied him on this all-important task. He complained to her about my refusal to obey. She then informed him that my response was none of his business. Uncle Leo quietly acknowledged that Dawn was right.


Dawn was a good sister. She defended me and knew how to be heard. Me, I was silenced.

~to be continued~

IMAGINING A WOO-FULL WORLD ~ Dedicated to John Lennon

This post is continued from the last, Imagine.

No wooies: Photo taken in Jamaica. This is as close as Mary Jane and I have ever gotten. 

I hope someday you'll join us, And the world will be as one.
I tried to resist it. I really did. The woo-woo culture is so counter to my LA upbringing. But I must admit that I am a transwoo-woo. Yes, I have become one with woo-woodom, though I remain closeted most of the time. Having learned to drive on the LA freeways (Note: I wrote “the” LA freeways. See California Dreamin' for that reference), I will perhaps never be on the extreme end of the woo-woo spectrum; I’ll persist in falling a bit closer to woe than woo. Sadly.

Imagine no possessions. I wonder if you can.
The Bay Area is replete with wonderfully intoxicating mineral baths. These bits of utopia encompass a celebration of woo-woodom. One leaves the computer, cell phone, and even clothes behind. Given my love for warm baths, I set out years ago to visit the hot springs for the first time. Because I was not a woo-woo girl and resisted becoming one, I had packed my bathing suit. While lounging at Harbin in my brightly flowered one-piece, though, I realized that (1) people were staring at me, and (2) people with lots and lots to hide were not hiding anything. So I stripped down too, and I stopped getting stares. I rationalized that this action was simply a matter of perfectly acceptable situational nudity facilitated by peer pressure and the need to brown my blindingly white skin. Note that I had doused my body in sunblock SPF 108 or so.

No need for greed or hunger, A brotherhood of man

While soaking, I learned a lot. For one thing, everything we could ask for is here for us for free and in earthly form. For another, there are woo-woos who take parental love to a whole new level. I met a woman who immediately freely shared that she bought her daughter a badly needed gift as a birthday present. This gift was a kama sutra coach to work with her daughter and son-in-law. Upon receiving the gift card, her daughter asked her what kama sutra meant. Next, the lessons did not take. The couple still doesn't have a sex life. Can you imagine? I mean, not imagining a couple that doesn't have sex. That one's easy. But what a waste of a wonderful gift imparted by a parent.

Imagine all the people Sharing all the world
What I’m warming you and me up to is the harsh reality that woo-woodom is perhaps a really good thing. I can’t hold it in any longer. Sigh. I am a full fledged woo-woo! Phew! I said it. The proof rests in the fact that - are you ready for this? I hugged a tree! It wasn’t planned. It just happened. Nothing about it was harmful. Don’t worry. See, I was at one of those woo-woo retreats on mindfulness meditation. I was there because, um, I was out in the woods looking for a Starbucks. I stopped at the Land of the Meditative Buddha to ask for directions to the nearest Starbucks (Buddhists drink coffee, right?), and they must have hypnotized me and offered me loads of chocolate. I don’t remember the details, but I found myself staying for the weekend. Then, there was this lengthy walking meditative exercise through the woods. I was strongly drawn to one specific huge and attractive pine tree. It oozed power, dignity and purpose.

You may say that I'm a dreamer, But I'm not the only one

In front of this tree, I had a peaceful, hazy recollection of celebrating Tu’bishvat (the Jewish New Year of the Trees). The leader of that celebratory gathering urged everyone to take time to hug a tree, at some point. His voice echoed through me. Now was my time. What did I have to lose? I mean, no one would see me. They were all in their own little woo-woo worlds. So I gave this staunch, well-rooted tree a loving embrace.

I hope someday you'll join us

When the meditation group reconvened, a woman announced, “I saw Robyn hugging a tree.” Damn b*tch! I could no longer hide my woo-woos. So I’m coming clean in the blogosphere too. Still, I really am more woe than woo. Oy, clearly conflicted between denial and the healing, holistic, therapeutic experience of woofullness, I admit that I’m glad to be part of the group.

Imagine everyone in the world has access to a beautiful sturdy tree. Imagine now that everyone takes the opportunity to give that tree a great big hug. It starts there, and we’d all be better for it.

And the world will live as one.

IMAGINE A WORLD OF WOO-FULLNESS ~ Dedicated to John Lennon

Note, this is a sequel to California Dreamin.'

Imagine there's no Heaven. It's easy if you try.

First things first, I would explore every inch of the Bay Area. This meant the hiking trails, Golden Gate Bridge, Ghiradelli’s Chocolate Factory, Ocean beach, and every dance club within a fifty mile radius.

“No thanks, my partner and I are having a quiet evening alone,” was the standard response to my desperate pleas for company on these ventures.

No hell below us. Above us only sky.
But invites began to spring forth, so I maintained hope for a glorious new life. Then, I was confused. The invites were for "potlucks." Intially, the concept was rather intriguing. I imagined a Woodstockesque gathering at People’s Park, wherein folks warmly welcomed me to choose from assortments of special homemade cigarettes and brownies. I'd pass on the cigs and grab for the latter. The term "pot-luck" made happy sense.

Imagine all the people Living for today

Everyone was ecstatic about potlucks, so I must have the right idea. Nah, I soon learned the potluck involved being told to bring whatever you wish, provided it’s meatless, gluten free, lactose free, and a main or hearty side dish that tastes delicious and serves 12 hungry adults and mid-size kids.

Please understand that I believe in going all out when I host a party. I cook, clean, and prep for days. It's the Jewish way, and the only way really. It's just wrong to invite guests to come over for dinner, with dinner!

Imagine there's no countries. It isn't hard to do.

Needless to say, the potluck typifies the all-loving mindset of the woo-woo culture. There are, in theory, no boundaries or rules in this culture. It’s a life of contributing in accordance with one’s most generous loving nature, in perfect synchronicity with the needs of others, all in a tranquil self actualized yada-yada-woo-woo fashion.

Nothing to kill or die for

You can't avoid this love filled woo-wooness. There are woo-woos in the supermarkets deliberating over which bunch of organic sprouts was uprooted most recently by the most earth friendly farmer who sprayed his crops with the least amount of chemical toxins.

And no religion too

There are woo-woos in the synagogues who hold their arms overhead, shaking them feverishly when excited by the feminine existence of the Source of love and life, peace and harmony, compassion and tranquility and yada-yada-woo-wooism.

Imagine all the people Living life in peace

There are woo-woos in community centers engaging in cooperative moments of eclectic spiritual transformative journeys. Spiritual guides direct the group to "join hands, while we breathe in the blessed realities of life and breathe out our demons and those of the universe.”

You may say that I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one

Everyone is partaking in some type of mesmerizing enlightenment: mindfully freeing yoga, chai ti mixed with hip hop head banging, qui gong sho with rapid breathing, yoga with an attitude, bo tai meditative strenuous deprivation, and relaxing challenging spinning cycles of meditational organismic ecstasy.

..No wooies; to be continued in next post..

California Dreamin' ~ Dedicated to the Mamas and the Papas, and to California dreamers everywhere

All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey.
“So you’re going to Berzerkeley?” Jim goaded, when I made my big announcement. My spinning brain didn't process his play on words. “Yeah, you’ll have to come visit me,” I responded. I knew it would never happen but wanted to give him one more chance. Jim and I recently worked together. He had asked me on a date a week earlier, but then changed his mind in favor of a concert with some friends. Thus, another disappointing man episode capped my life experiences in L.A. It was alright. I'd have no ties when I'd make my grand escape. Besides, there were bound to be some nice men in the Bay Area, if only of the “woo woo” variety. I wouldn’t be so likely to get dumped for an AC/DC concert. See ya, Jim. Wouldn’t want to be ya. You know, stuck in LA, and all. Sucka!


And the sky is grey.
I went for a walk on a winter’s day.
It’d been one hell of a quarter of a century thus far. With two family members buried side by side in Hillside’s grassy Mount of Olives, and a recent bout of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome that limited my activity level for months, I was more than ready. Clenching my acceptance letter from the UC Regents, I looked towards a new life in the San Francisco Bay Area.

I’d be safe and warm -
“You’ll freeze your ass off up there!” they warned. So I shopped for a hundred, give or take 98, winter garments. As I threw some of my raggedy old sweaters into the suitcase, I paused. “Berzerkeley?” What am I getting myself into?

You know, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees)

And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray)

But what could go wrong? I was escaping the frenzy of a life I was never suited for: the culture of models with their fake tans and blindingly bleached hair; everyone trying to get ahead of everyone else – whether that be in line at Starbuck’s on Rodeo Drive or the women's bathroom at Wendy’s on Venice Beach.

Oh, the preacher likes the cold (preacher likes the cold)

He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)

It’s a known fact that people flip each other off fighting for the closest parking space at Bally’s Health Spa in Santa Monica. Hello, all you gorgeous and fit people! Do you not see the irony in this?

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')

LA driving is worth special mention. First, it is necessary to say “the” before any name of a freeway in LA. Thus, there’s the 101, the 405, and too many more. I cannot let go of the damn the before giving directions nowadays. Seems you can take the girl out of LA. But you can’t take the LA driving experience out of her. I only wish.

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')

On such a winter's day (California dreamin')

The last time I drove down for Thanksgiving, I made it to the San Fernando Valley in 4 hours. Then, I was virtually stopped for the last 15 miles. At a standstill, I figured I might make it on time for pumpkin pie. (Well, you know that’s all I drove down for, but that’s not the point here.) My gracious sister-in-law had prepared a scrumptious meal and taught the Engels the courtesy of waiting for dinner guests to arrive (a new concept, especially when I was the guest).

If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her) I could leave today (I could leave today)
Back to my escape. I finally landed at my destination, eyeing Oakland’s Lake Merritt. It was a proud moment, so I pulled over to take it all in. What a glorious sight! Shimmering diamond specks dotted an expansive, green lake that oozed serenity. The skyline was less intrusive than any I had ever seen. A few drug stores, banks, and semi-high rise buildings guarded the lake. All was quiet and peaceful. Despite what I’d heard about Oakland, I felt certain the church across the way would assure my safety.

I’d be safe and warm -
Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin')
Home alas! I made it! Life began again in that moment. Something told me not to look down, though. Perhaps it was my inner cynic lambasting my ecstasy with a bit of reality. I somehow knew that if I peered intently into the water, I might see a dead body. Or two. Or three. So I just kept looking directly ahead, and up.

All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey.
On such a winter's day (California dreamin')

On such a winter's day (California dreamin')